Control and Power
by FlameFeather4549
Summary: "You know he despises you. But as you are being dragged away by the centaurs, you still struggle to turn for one last look as he watches you scream with a smile on his face." Dolores/Harry Rated T because I genuinely don't know what to rate this. I apologise for everything. Warnings for mentions of abuse and general creepiness.


**Hey guys! First things first, this is not meant to be taken seriously. It's a joke between me and my brother, who when I mentioned fanfiction to him, told me to write the most ridiculous pairing I could think of as realistically as possible. So… this is it! I literally had nothing to do this afternoon, and just sat down and wrote this within an hour. I apologise for everything. Warnings for pedophilia, mentions of abuse and general creepiness.**

 **Enjoy?**

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You first see him in a courtroom. Young, nervous, intimidated, he was not at all the image you had built up of the Boy-Who-Lived. He was too innocent, too young and pure to have defeated the Dark Lord. Strangely, you feel drawn to this boy, an urge to discover more about him, dissect his brain to figure out how - not only how he managed to defeat the darkest wizard in history, but also how he was able to keep his loyalty, kindness and strength. You want to figure him out.

Of course, you keep this fascination to yourself. You have a reputation to uphold, after all. Being Senior Under-Secretary to the Minister of Magic is a big responsibility. A post you had worked for, earned, deserved, despite your filthy muggle father who'd told you over and over again that girls didn't get power, that freaks should be punished and locked up… like your mother, who he shut inside the house for years after she had worked up the courage to tell him the truth about herself. Looking back, it had been your father. His alcoholic outbursts, his constant arrests, leaving behind his sickly wife and a young girl to a filthy ruin of a house. You hated him for that. And you needed revenge, to prove to him that you could do something with her life, something important and meaningful. Anti-werewolf legislations. Successfully passed laws to keep centaurs out of the forests of Great Britain. People respect you, even if they don't like you, and you're not willing to give that power up by showing an interest (for what else could it possibly be) in another person. Or more specifically, Harry Potter.

Of course, you should have known it wouldn't end there. When are things ever as simple as they seem? When Minister Fudge elected you to be the Ministry-approved Defence teacher at Hogwarts, all you could think about was seeing those green eyes again, burning with anger. Anger was fine, anger was understandable, but suddenly you felt a well-known surge of ambition to push him even further. How much hatred does this innocent, _young_ child contain? How much negativity can he take before Dumbledore's golden boy finally breaks?

You test him. Forbid the use of wands (because whatever Dumbledore might be planning can and will be stopped). You give him detentions. Weeks and months of detentions.

Because he might be gorgeous, but you know he deserves to be in pain. He deserves to be punished for his disrespect towards you. Being oblivious to your influence in the world.

Blood quills haven't failed you yet, you think, satisfied. But even that doesn't seem to faze him, at least not at first. You start living for these detentions, see him start cracking with every drop of blood spilt in your office. Those hate-filled glances, the mutinous words muttered under his breath, are all signs that you, Dolores Umbridge, are in control. You are influential. At long last, you truly feel power - something your position as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister was never able to give you.

Power is dangerous, people say. You never used to believe those idiotic cliches. But now you start to realise. Power is fire. It consumes you, controls you. Slowly sneaking up on you, the greed and hunger growing like weeds before they can be rooted out.

You take things further. You start to feel things, things you hadn't thought yourself capable of feeling before now. What started as a simple fascination with the unknown, a need to push and prod at this young, innocent boy, had turned into something bigger. _He is too young for you_. A strange ache build up in your chest when he looks at you, and it takes all your willpower not to scream.

Scream because he despises you. You think you love him. _He is too young for you._ He is on the wrong side, he is powerful, handsome, brave - he can still be persuaded - finally you pushed him too far. His half-breed friends, filthy mudbloods, the creatures he spends his time with - you had no way of knowing the importance they had to him.

So as you are dragged away by the centaurs, you struggle to turn for one last look as he watches you scream with a smile on his face.

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